


the meeting in the inn

by Chillykins



Series: Hubert Week 2020 [5]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26896150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chillykins/pseuds/Chillykins
Summary: When Hubert hears of the latest threat to the Empire, he takes care of it personally.
Series: Hubert Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955869
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10
Collections: Hubert Week 2020





	the meeting in the inn

**Author's Note:**

> hubert week day five! today's prompt is shadows
> 
> twitter: longestyeehaw / tumblr: applecideralex

Unsurprisingly, ever since Edelgard took on the title of emperor, there’s been no shortage of issues for Hubert to handle. Some can be fixed easily with money, or perhaps threats. But others -- like the one he is currently monitoring -- needs something more...permanent.

Even he can’t be everywhere at once, despite what the rumors say. As such, he’s enlisted a handful of trusted allies to serve as the extension of his senses. If it’s a simple enough target, they complete the task for him. Otherwise, they’ll feed him the information he needs to do it himself.

Hubert looks over his report. The war is still at something of a standstill. For every gain the Empire makes, the enemy takes a victory of their own. Losing no ground is a positive. Not advancing substantially is irritating.

The knock at the door is a welcome distraction. Whether it’s a positive one or not remains to be seen.

“Come in,” he says.

One of his spies enters and bows. “Lord Vestra.”

With a nod, Hubert gestures at the door. The spy closes it behind them. The two have gone through these reports before, so he doesn’t need to tell them to approach or speak.

“It’s just as you suspected,” they say. “Harvey is attempting to recruit a force to ambush the Black Eagle Strike Force specifically.”

It seems Harvey has learned from previous failed attempts to raise arms against the Empire. Ones who aim against the whole Imperial army or Edelgard herself are easy to dismantle. They overreach or there are too many protections in place. But the force made up of his former classmates is more manageable. It’s small but important -- and the one Hubert cares about the most. If they fall and Edelgard survives, with or without him, her morale will be crushed. He has no doubt she could overcome the loss for the greater good, but it’s a scenario he’d rather avoid.

“I’ve been working to gain his trust,” the spy continues. “Talking about wishing for the old days, my previous battle experience, everything he’s looking for.”

“And?”

“He asked me tonight if I was interested. I said I was worried about being overheard, because treason is worse than complaints. When he asked for a time and place to meet, I told him the inn room at midnight.”

The corner of Hubert’s mouth turns up. “Well done.”

“Thank you, milord.” The spy bows again. “Is there anything else you need from me at the moment?”

“No. You’ve earned a rest. You have my gratitude, and that of the emperor as well.”

With another _thank you_ , the spy leaves. Hubert leans back in his chair. He’ll never take having such competent spies for granted. Finding the right ones hadn’t been easy, but the Empire has been reaping the rewards ever since. This spy could have been able to end Harvey on their own, but given the stakes, he’s one Hubert is more than willing to keep to himself.

He glances at the clock on the corner of the desk. Nearly 10:30. Gathering his supplies won’t take long. The inn is no more than ten minutes away, though he’ll want to arrive early enough to set the scene. Still, there’s time to finalize his report. He picks up his quill and bends over the pages once more.

* * *

It’s a moonless, cloudy night. Hubert chuckles to himself as he nears the inn. He couldn’t have drawn up the weather any better. No one questions him when he enters the building. Why would they? A few small bows are directed his way, but other than that, there’s not much acknowledgement of him at all.

He makes his way down the hallway of rooms until he reaches the one set aside for occasions like these. Not bothering to knock, he opens the door. The room is empty as expected. Hubert lights the lamp on the bedside table. Harvey will be expecting a legitimate discussion. Setting up the room to support that idea as soon as the man walks in will give Hubert the time to seal the trap.

The lamp prevents him from having to strain to see. He inspects the window’s latch. Breaking it is one option, as it will hardly put a dent in the Imperial budget to replace. But why inconvenience an inn owner when controlling the morale of the people is so important? Instead, he pulls out a clean handkerchief and jamps it in the latch. If Harvey attempts to flee through the window, he’ll be delayed. Delayed long enough to be stopped.

As for where to stand...when the door does open, he’ll need to be out of sight. Even if he isn’t easily recognizable -- doubtful -- he looks nothing like his spy. The best space is the wall where the door is. To be exact, the side where it doesn’t open. He merely has to ensure the man fully wanders into the web. Once Hubert has Harvey in his grasp, he will not lose him.

The bedside table’s clock shows 11:45. It’s almost time. Still, there’s no reason for him to take his position quite yet. He stows rope in the desk drawer and sits. To pass the minutes, he runs his mind through the goals of the encounter and his means to achieve them. There’s no such thing as too much preparation. When the clock nears five minutes to midnight, Hubert stands. He drapes his cloak around the chair, one last touch to make the room seem properly occupied.

Standing in one place for several minutes tests the patience of most, but not him. Even if he’d decided to take his position after completing his initial preparations, he wouldn’t have minded the wait. There are times when the shadows stalk their target. Other times they wait for the target to do the work for them.

The doorknob turns. Hubert goes even more still. Judging by the confidence with which Harvey enters, he doesn’t suspect a thing. The other man is dressed smartly, in all black, but not suspiciously so. His hair is long and light, though it’s difficult to tell if it’s blonde or gray in the lighting. There’s a brief moment when he steps into the room without shutting the door. Hubert slips behind him and closes it without a sound.

“I appreciate your punctuality,” he greets.

Harvey stands as if frozen. He must recognize the voice isn’t the one he’d agreed to meet with. But does he know who he _is_ meeting with? He slowly turns. Hubert guesses his voice hadn’t been identified, as surely Harvey would’ve tried to run. 

“Lord Vestra,” Harvey says, bowing. There’s only a hint of unease in his dark eyes. “There must be some mistake. I must have the wrong room. I have a meeting with --”

“My spy?”

All pretense of innocence is dropped. Harvey pales. He stammers what may not even be words, then spins and runs for the window. Hubert walks almost casually after him. Grabbing the back of Harvey’s collar just as he begins to struggle with the handkerchief, Hubert pulls him to the chair.

“Sit down,” he says.

Harvey’s eyes flick over to the door. To dissuade him, Hubert raises his hand, which is wrapped in purple magic.

“Sit down,” he repeats. “This will be easier for you if you do.”

The other man stares at the door a beat longer before he sinks into the chair. His legs continue to tremble. If he’s truly so scared, perhaps it won’t be as messy as Hubert had anticipated. Despite his reputation, he prefers it this way. It saves time and effort.

Even without securing him, Hubert is sure he can easily handle Harvey. But there’s no point in taking risks. He retrieves the rope lengths from the desk’s drawer and tightly binds Harvey to the chair. 

“I’ve been informed you’re trying to raise a group to attack the Black Eagle Strike Force.” Hubert allows his magic to fade. He rests his hand close to the dagger on his belt instead. “Before I cut your plan and life short, I require the names of those you recruited.”

“I...I --”

“Don’t try my patience by denying it.”

Harvey swallows. Hubert watches him steadily. Perhaps the other man believes he can claim a small victory by taking those names to his grave. Time to give him the truth. Stepping closer, Hubert draws his dagger. He points it at Harvey’s throat, pushing just enough to draw a dot of blood.

“It’s true that nothing you say will spare your life, but you can save yourself pain. I trust you’ve heard the stories. Do you want to become a cautionary tale like Lord Mirk?”

The incident hadn’t been done by Hubert personally, though it was on his orders. That’s a minor, irrelevant detail. Evidently forgetting the blade, Harvey shakes his head, the dagger making a shallow slice.

“Then you understand your situation. I suggest you make your decision quickly.”

There’s a pause, perhaps as Harvey fully processes his fate. For good measure, Hubert pulls up a small dose of magic and sends it into the other man, who grimaces. A reminder of all the resources at Hubert’s disposal. Closing his eyes, Harvey begins listing names. He speaks so quickly Hubert has to stop him.

“Slower,” he says. “Your information is useless if I can’t understand it, and you’ll pay the price.”

This time, Harvey speaks at a normal pace, albeit with a tremor in his voice. Hubert draws back to write down each name on a sheet of paper he brought with him. Some are familiar, others aren’t. With the right steps, none of them will need to die. Harvey will be the example. Those who once planned to follow him will be watched for their reaction. Bribed and threatened if needed, should they fail to receive the message. Better to exhaust those options before leaving a pile of bodies to be questioned. 

When Harvey finishes, he lowers his head.

“Is that all?” Hubert asks. “Should I find you’ve left even one name off, don’t underestimate my dedication to find anyone you care for and carry out your punishment on them.”

That forces Harvey’s head back up. “Please don’t.” There’s a new desperation in his tone. “I’ve given you all the names I know. I swear.”

“All the names you _know_? Are there some you don’t?”

“A few didn’t want to give their names because they didn’t want to be caught. But -- but I can describe them to you.”

Hubert nods. Missing identities complicate matters, but it’s not a development impossible to deal with. Harvey’s descriptions are lengthy. A pity for him he hadn’t put the same effort into vetting the spy. Hubert adds them to his list.

“May the goddess forgive me for all these death sentences,” Harvey says under his breath once he’s done.

“I have no intention of killing them all,” Hubert replies. He takes several steps back, hand glowing once more. “The blood the Empire spills is only what’s necessary to win this war. Perhaps it is your Church that should ask for forgiveness for its failures.”

For the first time, anger flashes in Harvey’s eyes. He opens his mouth, perhaps to tell Hubert he’ll be struck down by the goddess herself. No words come out, for Hubert’s magic rips through him.

A quick death, as promised.

Hubert skims the paper, then tucks it into his shirt. A successful conversation, though some work remains. First, deciding what will be most effective to do with the body. After that, giving the spies their new directions and shifting his priorities accordingly.

The duties of the shadows never end.


End file.
